


i heard you calling me

by benvoliotheorphan



Category: WandaVision (TV), X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: ?? i guess, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, IDK how to tag this tbh, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Sibling Bonding, Speculation, i will cling to this concept no matter what canon says, interdimensional twins!!, kind of?? a hopeful ending anyway, light spoilers for episode 7, second chapter contains light spoilers for episode 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29569356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benvoliotheorphan/pseuds/benvoliotheorphan
Summary: “I’m a twin.”The voice was like a whisper in his ear, and Peter quickly skid to a stop.Or: speculation on how Peter was brought over from the X-Men universe to the MCU.
Relationships: Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff
Comments: 34
Kudos: 444





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i've been watching wandavision and desperately clinging to the idea that the pietro in the show is peter from the x-men movies. he was my favorite from those movies and i thought i would never see more of him after dark phoenix. i've also recently really grown to like the idea of peter having lost his version of wanda, and so he and the mcu wanda eventually end up filling in the other's missing piece in a way. i just... i have a lot of emotions about the concept, okay?
> 
> i'm sure the next two episodes will fill in the gap for how peter was brought across universes (if he's actually peter, anyway), but i just... wanted to write my take on how it went down.
> 
> anyway, general warnings for peter possibly being ooc because this is my first time writing him. also i wrote this very quickly and have barely looked over it, so its probably a bit of a mess lol

_“I’m a twin.”_

The voice was like a whisper in his ear, and Peter quickly skid to a stop, the world around him instantly swinging back into motion. The students in the mansion’s hallway were all startled at his sudden appearance, shouts and awed whispers filling the air. Typically, Peter would boast at the attention, always eager to entertain and please the ankle biters whenever he was off duty, his big brother instinct still intact despite his youngest sister now being an adult (although only just barely so). He ignored them this time, however, his brow furrowed as he stared off at nothing, concentrating on hearing that voice again. The words were unfamiliar, but the _voice_ —

_“I had a brother…”_

He jumped as the voice echoed in his ears, sounding muffled and distant, as though he was submerged in a pool and the person speaking to him was standing by the poolside. It wasn’t too dissimilar to when the Professor or Jean spoke to him telepathically, but it still wasn’t quite…right.

_“His name was Pietro.”_

Peter’s eyes widened at the sound of his birth name, and in an instant he knew whose voice he was hearing. It didn’t matter if it sounded different to the one he knew, it didn’t matter if it was impossible because she was dead – _dead, dead, he was late again, always late, always too late –_ no, none of that mattered.

He’d recognize his sister’s voice anywhere.

“Wanda,” he gasped, his head whipping around left and right for any sign of his sister, but to no avail. A deep sadness, loneliness, washed over him, one he knew was not his own, having felt a similar sensation so many times before. “Talk to me, sis, where are you?”

The students around him shared concerned looks, and from the corner of his eye he spotted one rushing off down the hallway. No doubt they were worried and going to get the Professor, not that he could blame them; he knew he wasn’t acting like himself.

_“Pietro…”_

The voice sobbed his name, the sorrow and agony it carried feeling like a punch to his chest. His eyes widened as he felt a familiar bubble of panic – Wanda was hurt, she _was hurting_ , and she _needed him!_

“Peter?” Peter’s head snapped towards the direction of Jean’s voice, having not noticed her approach. She frowned at him, but he could easily see the concern in her eyes, could practically feel it coming off her in waves. “What’s wrong?”

He gulped, a shudder running down his spine as he tried to gather his thoughts. No doubt she and the Professor would struggle to read his thoughts at that time, as they were racing even faster than he had been when he had saved ~~almost~~ everyone from the explosion a few years back. “I…” he began, stopping short as he second-guessed his words. How could he possibly explain that his sister was somehow alive after all these years, that she needed him? “I hear…”

Jean’s frown deepened and her eyes narrowed. “What do you hear, Peter?” she asked, her suspicion cutting through what few nerves he still retained.

And he understood her suspicion, he really did. They had had issues with other telepaths in the past, and each time Jean had been able to sense them even when the Professor couldn’t. If someone was telepathically talking to Peter without her knowing, then it was definitely something to be concerned about. But Jean had never _met_ Wanda, had never been in contact with her mutation. Wanda had been powerful, even as untrained as she was. He knew, though, just how capable she was, what she had been able to do. It was only her own fear at herself that held her back, that led to her—

Wanda wasn’t a threat, though. Not to him. _Never_ to him.

_“Oh, Pietro…”_

He startled as Wanda’s mourned cry once again rang through his head, this time accompanied with a strong _pull_. Jean must’ve heard it, must’ve _felt_ it, too, because when he turned towards the direction he had felt the tug coming from, he saw her do the same in his peripheral. Her eyes were wide with fear, the likes of which he’d rarely ever seen from her.

“Peter, who-?” she began, but Peter didn’t stick around to hear the rest of her question. His sister needed him, and he was not about to fail her. Not again.

Peter felt the world around him slow to a crawl as the tugging on his mind became more insistent. He then took in a deep breath and _ran_.

He ran as fast as he could, faster than he had ever run before. His legs ached at the strain, the one that had been broken in Cairo more acutely than the other, and his lungs struggled for breath as he did his best to hold back his panic. Before he knew it, he had crossed the state line, and then—

A dance of purple and red clouded his vision as soon as he reached Westview, New Jersey. And just like that, Peter Maximoff knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wasn't his Wanda. And he wasn't her Pietro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still clinging to the idea that fietro is peter until the last episode of wandavision proves otherwise.
> 
> tbh i wasn't gonna add anything more to this since the first chapter was written on a whim while i was taking a break from work. but right before episode 8 dropped i got inspired to try and write out a convo between wanda and peter after everything with the hex and agatha is said and done... and then i had to go back and rework what i wrote to fit with the new info episode 8 gave us. honestly, the first half of this fic and the second half were written days apart because of that, and it probably shows lol
> 
> but, yeah, this is again just speculation on a possible conversation between wanda and peter post wandavision. once again a general warning for characters possibly being ooc.

“So… your name isn’t actually Pietro?”

Peter jumped when Wanda spoke, her back facing him as she stared hollowly out the window of the office they were stuck in. He had _thought_ he had been extra quiet when he entered the room, going slower than was typical and even keeping to the tips of his toes. Clearly, this Wanda was just a perceptive as his own had once been, and he swallowed thickly at the thought.

She wasn’t his sister. There were so many differences between this Wanda Maximoff and the one he grew up with, both in terms of physical appearance and personality, that made it exceedingly clear that she was not _his Wanda_. But there were also just enough similarities present that… drew him to her, for better or worse. He was just too curious about his not-sister to stay away from her for too long, despite how Captain Rambeau and Agent Woo had thoroughly warned him against approaching her so soon after everything.

He was stuck in this world for the foreseeable future, away from all the family he had ever known (even if not all had been aware of their relation – and now likely never would), and she was the only spark of familiarity in this strange, new reality he was in.

“No, it is,” he answered slowly, a true rarity for him, as he made his way to stand by Wanda’s side. “My birth name is Pietro. But I’ve always gone by Peter. Easier.” Part of him is tempted to share more, about how he had been ostracized by his peers growing up for a variety of reasons, including his strange hair color and his lack of a father, and how using the anglicized version of his name helped to minimalize it. Peter had always had trouble with oversharing with those he was close to. There were no secrets between him and his sisters, and he wanted desperately to experience that familiarity again. He bit his tongue, however, for once well aware that now was not the time nor the place.

Wanda hummed softly, but when he dared to glance her way her gaze was still firmly glued on the city skyline outside. He shifted awkwardly as the silence stretched, tempted to simply turn around and leave the room and not attempt to connect with his sort-of sister again. But that same force of indecisiveness that led to him never telling Erik of their relation struck him again, and Peter found himself hemming and hawing long enough for Wanda to finally speak again. “Do… are our parents alive? In your world?”

Peter puffed out his cheeks before letting out a long, low breath, unsure how to even broach the topic of their parents. Clearly, despite all the similarities between their two universes, the issue of their parents couldn’t be more different. “Yes,” he finally settled on after a moment, for it was the truth the last time he had been home, “they’re alive. But… Mom raised us – or, well, me and my Wanda - she raised us mostly on her own. Our, uh, blood father never knew about us, and our stepfather divorced her not long after our half-sister was born.”

Wanda’s eyes widened at the mention of another sibling, and Peter felt a hard lurch in his stomach at the thought of his younger sister simply never existing in this world. Wanda then frowned as she asked, “A sister? I... how old were you when she was born?”

Peter gulped, his hands clutching into fists at his sides to prevent them from shaking. “Twelve.”

Wanda’s face relaxed some, though the frown remained. She still refused to look at him. “We were ten when our parents died,” she said, and the shaking in Peter’s hands could no longer be contained by clutching them closed.

His youngest sister, with her messy brown hair and smile so bright it could light up a room, did not exist. The idea he would never see her again, not even an alternate version of her, shoved a lump into Peter’s throat that he could not push down, no matter how he tried.

His vision began to blur, and Peter quickly turned to look out the window.

“...Our stories aren’t completely different,” Wanda spoke after a moment of uncharacteristic silence (though, to be fair, his family had always been one of the few things that could effectively hit the brakes on Peter’s motormouth), her voice quiet and placating. The voice was one of the biggest differences between this Wanda and his own. The one in his memory was a higher pitch and carried with it the tendency to mumble. This Wanda’s voice was deeper and carried a confidence that his own sister’s never did ~~(~~ _ ~~never had the chance to~~_ ~~)~~. They sounded nothing alike, but in that moment... he was a small child again, clinging to his sister after having a nightmare. “They never told us, but... Pietro and I, we found out later that our parents didn’t marry until we were two. And our father’s name wasn’t on our birth certificate.”

Peter’s heart rate accelerated, reaching speeds he rarely ever felt. He struggled for a moment to calm himself, taking in several steady breaths and clenching his fists tighter to a bruising point. He had no reason to react in such a way, learning this information was the whole reason he initially sought Wanda out!

When he failed to calm himself down, Peter did the one thing he did best (besides running): deflect.

“Not too similar, though,” he said, his voice cracking a bit. He brought one hand up to his mouth and coughed into it, taking the moment to use his super-speed to wipe away his tears. “We grew up in America, not Sokovia; I’m not sure that country even exists in our world. Mom moved over here when she was young. Her family were refugees during the second world war.”

There was a short pause, and when Peter risked another glance, Wanda was frowning out the window, her brow furrowed. He let out a long, low breath, his heart finally slowing; it seemed she hadn’t even noticed his earlier freak-out. “I forget, sometimes,” she began, her voice thick with emotion, though Peter could not quite tell just what that emotion was, “that you’re from a different time as well.”

Peter snorted. “I wish I _could_ forget that, honestly,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s a big enough culture shock to be here without the time displacement on top of it.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized in a hushed whisper, and for the first time since he entered the room, Wanda looked away from the window, instead ducking her gaze down towards her hands.

He shrugged, easily slipping into his nonchalant persona. “You didn’t mean to drag me here,” he dismissed. “And, honestly, you didn’t even force me. I was the one who decided to follow the mysterious voice in my head.”

Wanda jerked her head up, turning to look at him for what had to have been the first time since the whole mess in Westview had blown over. “Voice?” she asked, and something about her questioning tone, concerned look, and red hair just made him think of _Jean_ , and he felt another pang of grief and guilt for leaving her and the rest of the X-Men behind. “What voice?”

“Oh, I uh…” He floundered for a moment, unsure how to explain how desperate he had been to see his sister again, to _help_ her. “That line I had given in the Hex? About me hearing you calling me? That bit was actually true.” Peter frowned, his stomach twisting as he recalled the excitement and desperation and anxiety he had felt as he booked it after her voice. “I… I thought…that you…” He snapped his mouth shut when he struggled to form a coherent thought, taking a moment to close his eyes and breath in deeply through his nose and out his mouth. He did it a few more times before opening his eyes and meeting Wanda’s dead on. “In my world, you were the one who died.”

It felt so bitter, so _wrong_ , to admit it out loud, and he grimaced at the sour taste it left. Wanda’s gaze softened at his admission, and he wondered if she had suspected it. He had halfway expected her to look shocked, or at the very least uncomfortable, by the revelation, but her stance was relaxed as she stared at him with large eyes and a small frown. Whatever she had been trying to accomplish with the look, she only succeeded at making him feel worse.

“The thing is… you aren’t her,” Peter found himself saying, his mouth once again speaking before his brain could think better of it, “and I’m not him. I mean, yeah, sure, _technically_ we’re the same person, but it’s like you said: I look completely different from your Pietro. And you look almost nothing like my Wanda. You may have similar powers, but…”

“Did she have more control than me?” Wanda asked as his voice trailed off, her gaze once again falling towards her hands. Peter reeled back at the question, unable to stop the confused sound that escaped his throat. Wanda glanced back up at him, and he must’ve also worn his bemusement on his face, for she quickly elaborated with, “When Pietro... when my brother died, we had not had our powers for very long. He was fast, faster than anyone on the planet, but compared to you...” She looked back down at her hands as she continuously clenched and unclenched her fists. “My powers have grown with time; his likely would’ve as well. But you… given how fast you can go, you must’ve had them for a long time.”

“Wanda and I were about thirteen when our mutations fully manifested,” he confirmed with a slight nod. “Believe it or not, though, my Wanda had way less control.” Peter shook his head, recalling the last time he had seen his sister – her bloodshot eyes and tearstained cheeks as she screamed in agony were a common vision in his nightmares. “Maybe she would’ve been as powerful as you if given the chance, but… she was always so _afraid_... and I think the ease at which I took to my mutation only made it worse.” He paused for a bit as his sister’s final screams echoed in his ears, still haunted by the way it was suddenly cut off as her life was crushed in an instant. “I always tend to make things worse.”

Wanda let out a low huff of a laugh, a bitter smile twisting at her lips. “I know the feeling,” she murmured.

Peter gave her a shaky smile in return, though she didn’t see it with her gaze still focused on her hands. He began to reach out to take her hands, an action that he used to do to help steady his sister in her darker moments, one he was surprised his muscles still had memorized, but he stopped himself just shy of grabbing them. Wanda finally lifted her head, and when he met her green eyes (his Wanda’s eyes were a dark, deep brown, like his own and their mother’s... but Erik’s eyes took on a green tint when the light hit them just right), he was able to steady his smile into something that felt similar to the ones he gave his sisters or his students when comforting them. 

“Listen, about what I was saying before... I know I can’t replace him, just like how you can’t replace her. But...” He hesitated for a moment more before closing the gap between their hands and gently wrapping his around hers. “I do care about you. And I don’t know about you, but I for one can’t handle being alone right now. Maybe... maybe we could be friends?”

The shift in Wanda’s expression was subtle: her smile grew a bit wider, enough to lift her cheeks, and the crease in her brow smoothed. It was the happiest, most genuine smile he had ever seen from her, small as it was, and he was again reminded of those few moments he was able to pull a laugh out of Erik during one of the few times he swung around to visit Charles. It felt special, like something that was a rare and sacred sight after all the heartache and trauma.

Then Wanda surprised him by twisting her hands in his just enough to get a good grip on him and pull him into a hug. He fell right into it, relishing the feeling of her arms squeezing around his torso. When they had first hugged, she had been so hesitant, not quite believing who he was and far too suspicious of his presence, while he had been busy trying to fight off Agatha’s control. It had been stiff, awkward, and only lasted as long as it needed to, both eager to get out of it. This hug, in Peter’s own humble opinion, was a million times better, with Wanda’s grip on him strong and steady, but never to the point of bruising. He gave it his all as well, squeezing her for all he was worth.

“I’d like that,” Wanda answered after a moment, her voice hushed even right next to his ear.

They pulled apart soon after, Peter feeling light enough to walk on air, and Wanda looking similarly so. They smiled at each other as they stepped away, and for that brief moment, Peter did not dread being stuck in a universe that was not his own.

“Y’know, according to our bloodwork, our DNA is as close as siblings typically are, meaning we’re technically family already,” he quipped, feeling more like himself than he had since getting pulled away from home. “So, we might as well stick together.”

She raised a brow at the sudden tidbit. “They showed you the lab work results already?”

Peter shook his head and gave a dismissive wave. “Nah. I did a bit of snooping before heading up here, read it over some lackey’s shoulder.” He smirked at the somewhat impressed look sent his way, feeling proud that he’d managed to impress someone as powerful as her. “C’mon,” he said, jerking his head towards the door, “it’s about time for lunch, yeah?”

Wanda’s expression faltered as she turned to the door, that earlier hesitance returning. Peter did not allow it to fester, however, quickly reaching out and grasping her hand with a reassuring squeeze. She stared at their hands for a moment, taking a few shaky breaths, before turning back towards him. With a small, shaky smile, she nodded and allowed him to lead her out the door and away from her spiraling thoughts.

This Wanda Maximoff was not his Wanda Maximoff. His Wanda had been almost taller than him and thin as a rail, with long brown hair and dark brown eyes and a high, mumbly voice. His Wanda had been overcome with fear towards herself as she struggled to keep her powers under control, accidentally hurting classmates and friends and family until she isolated herself from everyone. Her fear grew and grew with each passing year, and he had been too caught up with his own problems and abusing his own powers to notice. It wasn’t until they found out who their father was that he finally realized that she had been slowly falling away from him, but by then she had been too far for him to reach.

Peter could count on one hand the number of times he had been too late despite his super speed. His sister’s death had been the first. Then he lost another sister he never knew as well as a stepmother. He arrived at the mansion too late to save Alex Summers, something Scott still held a grudge against whether he knew it or not. Erik would now likely never know he had a son, that he had more family out there, and even if one of the X-Men told him, there would be no comfort in the revelation.

This Wanda was different from his own Wanda, yes. But she was as kind as his Wanda, as loving, as fiercely loyal, as powerful, and at that moment, just as isolated and scared.

“Y’know, I’m pretty big on sitcoms myself, but I didn’t recognize any of the ones you copied while I was there. Mind filling the gap between the mid-’80s and now?”

Wanda laughed, though it was so quiet that Peter nearly missed it. “Okay, but that’s about 40 years’ worth of television. Are you sure you want to know?”

“Hell yeah! Wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

Peter wasn’t sure how long he’d be trapped in this world, if he’d ever even get the chance to go home. But he’d be damned before he ever allowed himself to be late again.


End file.
